


life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death

by MagicaLyss



Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [18]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Whumptober Day Twenty-One. Laced DrinkThe gun is at Tony’s temple within the blink of an eye. Peter cries out, fists clenching in the cuffs. Tony knows Peter could snap the metal and escape, but he also knows Peter won’t if there’s a gun at Tony’s head.“Let me explain. The game is simple. Iocane powder, tasteless, soluble, odorless, and the most poisonous substance known to man, or not known to man since it’s a very rare chemical formula to come across.“Peter, here, will get to choose which glass he’ll put the drugs into, without me seeing. I pick which glass I drink, and which he drinks. If I choose right, you both die and I live. If I choose wrong, I die, and both of you can leave. The keys to get you out are right here.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502675
Comments: 11
Kudos: 354





	life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death

**Author's Note:**

> Oops Inspired by The Princess Bride

“This isn’t ideal,” Peter says when Tony blinks his eyes open.  
  


The kid is sitting against chipped and peeling wallpaper colored the worst shade of green. His wrists are handcuffed to the radiator which is rattling behind him as well. But he’s grinning nonetheless like this is totally fine.  
  


“Yeah, kid, getting kidnapped, isn’t ideal,” Tony says, tugging at the handcuffs attaching him to the bedpost. Only his right wrist is cuffed, his left free to try to pull at it, but even the bed is bolted to the ground.  
  


But Peter’s right across from him, near enough that he can stretch forward and rest his free hand on the kid’s outstretched ankle.  
  


“Are you okay?” he asks, just in case. He knows Peter’s smiling and making jokes, but that could just be a defense mechanism to hide any injuries. “I need to know before anything goes down.”  
  


“I’m fine.” Both Peter’s wrists are chained in separate handcuffs and he rattles them in annoyance. “A little tied up, but nothing we can’t get out of. At least I’m not alone this time. Last time I got kidnapped, it was such a bore. Maybe they’ll give us a deck of cards or something and you can teach me to play poker.”  
  


Tony rolls his eyes, giving up on his handcuff.  
  


They’re in a hotel room, probably a cheap one on the outskirts of the city by the looks of the scenery out the window behind Peter. They’re sitting on the floor and all of their belongings are discarded on the nightstand beside Tony.  
  


On one hand, it could be a taunt. Blinds open, technology just out of reach, escape so easy.  
  


Or it could mean they aren’t planning on keeping the two of them very long. And if they could kidnap them _at all_? Tony fears it may be the latter.  
  


“Can I bust out?” Peter asks. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched by his head, each set of handcuffs pulled taut. He could snap them both and get them out of here in no time.  
  


Tony’s about to agree. The people who took them could be easily disposed of if they found out Peter’s secret. But before he can, Peter’s hands are forcefully relaxing.  
  


“They’re outside the door,” Peter says, face carefully set in nonchalance.  
  


Tony wishes he could do anything, _anything_ , to make sure his kid is okay, but at this rate, it looks like Peter’s the one who has to do the saving.  
  


And just as said, the door opens a moment later and a man walks into the room. He looks pretty average, nothing particularly special.  
  


Light brown thin hair, angry eyebrows, wide blue eyes. He’s tall with broad shoulders, but easy enough to take down. He’s carrying two empty glasses, a gun, and a set of keys, assumedly for their handcuffs.  
  


“Hello,” he greets, voice rough and quiet. “I’m Owen, you’re Mister Parker and Mister Stark, it’s nice to meet you.”  
  


“I would say it’s nice to meet you too because I was raised with lots of good manners, but honestly, I prefer to meet people without being, you know, kidnapped,” Peter rambles.  
  


Owen settles down on the floor diagonal to them. He sets the glasses down on the floor within their reach, but neither of them move. He reaches behind him to grab a bottle of wine out of the mini fridge.  
  


“We’re going to play a little game. Just for the fun of it,” he says.  
  


The wine’s popped open and poured into the glasses. Before setting it aside, he takes a quick swig straight form the bottle, it leaves a smear of red in his mustache.  
  


“You ever drink before, kid?” Owen asks, turning his attention on Peter.  
  


“No, sir,” Peter responds quickly. There’s a strange amount of fear bouncing behind his eyes. Owen doesn’t appear scary, but obviously, something’s wrong. Tony has no idea what to do. He can’t offer anything to quench Peter’s fear.  
  


Owen nods, corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. “No time like the present, right?”  
  


Tony can’t help but roll his eyes. This is their torture? Drinking wine? With Peter’s metabolism, he could drink the whole minibar and not feel a thing.  
  


“You said it was a game,” Peter points out carefully. His eyes dart between Tony and Owen. “What’s the game?”  
  


Owen grins, almost laughing. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and produces a vial of… something. Tony can’t tell.  
  


“Iocane powder!” Owen puts the drugs on the floor between the glasses.  
  


“If this is some bullshit-”  
  


The gun is at Tony’s temple within the blink of an eye. Peter cries out, fists clenching in the cuffs. Tony knows Peter could snap the metal and escape, but he also knows Peter won’t if there’s a gun at Tony’s head.  
  


Owen tsks. He’s still smiling. “Let me explain. The game is simple. Iocane powder, tasteless, soluble, odorless, and the most poisonous substance known to man, or not known to man since it’s a very rare chemical formula to come across.  
  


“Peter, here, will get to choose which glass he’ll put the drugs into, without me seeing. I pick which glass I drink, and which he drinks. If I choose right, you both die and I live. If I choose wrong, I die, and both of you can leave. The keys to get you out are right here.”  
  


Anger explodes inside Tony’s chest. “You can’t possibly put this on him! I’ll do it. Leave him out of it! He’s just a kid-”  
  


“Tony,” Peter says quietly. He’s staring at the wine on the floor between them, at the iocane powder. “I can do this.”  
  


Shaking his head, Tony tries to think of a good argument, but the barrel of the gun is pressing into his temple, and there’s not much he can say.  
  


“Peter, please, for the love of god-”  
  


Peter looks up, eyes startingly glassy. “I can do this. I- I can do this. Trust me.”  
  


Owen cackles in some awful version of delight. He leans forward and unlatches Peter’s left hand from the radiator, keeping the gun on Tony.  
  


“You can’t watch,” Peter says quickly. His voice is painfully choked up and a tear falls down his face.  
  


Looking somehow even more excited, Owen stands. He rips some fabric off the bed and gags Tony, making quick work, before turning his back on them.  
  


“I’m sorry,” Peter breathes, barely loud enough for Tony to hear.  
  


He picks up the vial of powder and pops it open. His hands are shaking.  
  


Tony wants to say something to make him stop. Owen’s alone. It’s just him, they could kill him and break out. But the gun in Owen’s hand, still pointed vaguely in Tony’s direction without looking, is making Peter follow the plan.  
  


He wants to beg Peter to save himself. He wants to plead to the kid to break out, and run. With or without Tony, he doesn’t care. But he can’t say _anything_.  
  


Peter lifts the vial and with trembling hands he starts pouring it into one glass. Abruptly, he stops. Half the vial still left.  
  


Tony realizes what his plan is and he tries to cry out, tries to do anything to convince Peter to stop, to change his mind. That he isn’t worth it. But he can’t.  
  


All he can do is watch as Peter pours the other half of the vial into the second glass.  
  


Both are laced now. No matter what Owen chooses, it’ll end the same.  
  


“I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, looking up at Tony. The teenager’s trying to school his features into nonchalance, into a poker face, but he’s obviously scared, obviously crumbling.  
  


Tears are still sliding down his face, but his eyes are hardened and his mouth is set in a grim line. “I’m ready.”  
  


Owen turns around, grinning gleefully, and sits on the floor again. He keeps his gun trained on Tony and makes sure their cuff keys are on the ground by Tony’s foot.  
  


Surprisingly, he doesn’t make a big show out of it. He leans forward over the glasses of wine, plays eenie-meenie-miney-mo, and lands on the second glass.  
  


“Alright then, Parker, bottoms up,” Owen says, mouth quirking up. He doesn’t seem at all worried. “Whichever way this goes, it was a fun game.”  
  


Peter’s hands are shaking bad enough that a bit of his wine sloshes over the edge of the glass. But he lifts it to his mouth anyway. He meets Tony’s eyes.  
  


“I love you,” he murmurs before his eyes fall shut and he takes the wine like a shot.  
  


The gun clatters out of Owen’s hands, eyes glazing over almost immediately. “Well played, Parker.”  
  


And then he falls backward, convulsing. It only takes a moment before he falls still, eyes rolling back.  
  


Tony pulls at his cuff, cry getting muffled by the gag. He scrabbles for the keys, watching Peter slump against the radiator, body shaking.  
  


_Finally_ , he’s able to undo his handcuff and he immediately fumbles forward, slipping in the wine spilt across the floor.  
  


He grabs for Peter, lifting his chin and feeling for a pulse. It’s there, which definitely counts for something, but it’s too fast, too weak, too jumpy.  
  


Ripping the gag from his mouth, he unhooks Peter’s cuff as well. Peter falls against Tony’s chest bonelessly, a sob catching in his throat.  
  


“Peter, _tesoro_ , bubba, god, please, no. Fuck, I need you to hold on, okay? I’m going to get you help. It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be okay, _bambino_ ,” Tony rambles, smoothing back Peter’s hair, and peppering his forehead in kisses.  
  


He lifts Peter off the ground, trying his best not to cry, ignoring the body on the floor, and lays Peter down on the hotel bed.  
  


His phone is easy enough to find on the nightstand among the rest of their things and he quickly dials for help.  
  


“Tones? Where the fuck are you-”  
  


“Rhodey, god, please, I need your help. You need to- I need you- _please_. Peter, he-” Tony tries to explain, tears blurring his vision, and shoulders shaking.  
  


Rhodey curses a few times and then the sound of wind fills the call. “I’m on my way. Got your location. I’m twenty minutes out.”  
  


“Bruce- I need- I need a doctor. He was- He was poisoned, I need- Fuck, I can’t lose him, Rhodey. I can’t,” Tony cries. He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, he doesn’t care how he sounds. _His kid_. His kid is dying and he can’t fix it.  
  


“We’re on our way. Focus on Peter, help is coming.”  
  


Tony hangs up and drops his phone on the edge of the bed before reaching for Peter.  
  


He lifts his kid against his chest, cradling the shaking teenager. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. Help is coming. You’re going to be okay.”  
  


Peter’s convulsing, crying, sweating. He’s in pain. His breaths are coming in wheezy, choked, whimpers.  
  


And there’s nothing Tony can do to help him. He’s never even _heard_ of iocane powder before.  
  


Peter’s dying _for_ Tony. He should have done _something_. He should’ve thought of a way to save his kid. But now Peter’s dying and there’s nothing he can do-  
  


He cards his fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to offer comfort until help arrives.  
  


“You’re going to be okay, bubba. It’s going to be okay. I promise. And I don’t break my promises, remember? Of course you do,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple. He takes a deep breath, trying not to seem too panicked just in case Peter can hear him.  
  


Peter whines in the back of his throat, hiding his face in Tony’s shirt, fingers digging into Tony’s forearm. He cries out in pain, muffled by Tony’s shirt, shaking worse than before.  
  


“ _Il mio bambino_ ,” Tony breathes, pressing his forehead to Peter’s hair, gripping Peter tighter to him. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, Peter. You hear me, I love you.”  
  


He doesn’t know if Peter _can_ hear him, but all he’s got right now is desperate hope.  
  


There’s not much else he can do but ramble anxiously, pouring as much reassurance into his voice as he can, gripping Peter against his chest.  
  


And what feels like hours later, the door busts open.  
  


“Tony!” Rhodey gasps, hurrying over. Bruce is right behind him, pulling a stretcher.  
  


“Please help him,” Tony begs, crying and desperate. He knows he probably looks like a mess, and there’s a dead body on the floor, and Peter’s not moving anymore-  
  


Almost instantly, Bruce is taking Peter away from him, and Tony cries out, frantically reaching for his kid again, but Rhodey moves between them.  
  


“It’s okay. Bruce is going to take care of him. It’s okay. You did good, now let Bruce do what he needs to do,” Rhodey says, settling his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you home, yeah?”  
  


Tony nods wordlessly, world spinning dangerously. He doesn’t feel grounded. He feels purposeless and weightless without Peter.  
  


But Rhodey easily takes charge, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders and leading him out of the hotel.  
  


Tony’s pushed into passenger seat of the ambulance with the instruction to sleep on his way back. Peter’s in the back with Bruce and Helen taking care of him, Rhodey’s driving back towards the compound.  
  


But Tony can’t sleep. He can’t think. He can’t breathe.  
  


He watches the hotel get smaller and smaller behind them until he can’t see it anymore.

  
*  
  
May and Pepper are waiting for them outside the compound. Helen, Bruce, and Peter disappear almost instantly, but Rhodey stays at his side, leading him towards the women.  
  


He waits to get hit, to get screamed at, to be forbidden from ever seeing Peter again.  
  


But none of it comes.  
  


Instead, May pulls him into a hug.  
  


She’s stronger than Tony will ever be.

  
*  
  
It takes a whole twenty-eight hours before they’re allowed to see him.  
  


May’s more understanding than ever. She lets him go in first, by himself. She seems to understand the need he has to make sure he’s okay. To talk to him.  
  


He sits at Peter’s bedside, watching the kid slowly wake up.  
  


His head rolls on the pillow towards Tony, a sleepy smile on his face.  
  


“Hi,” Peter murmurs, voice raspy.  
  


“As happy as I am that you’re okay, I’m really angry with you. You shouldn’t have- We’ve been over this a thousand times, Peter. You come before me. Always. You can’t just- You _willingly_ gave yourself up for me, _again_. You didn’t even give yourself a chance!”  
  


The smile falls from Peter’s face and his forehead crinkles. “I think I’ve told you before too, that it goes the other way too. You can’t just expect me to let you die if I can think of a way to save you.”  
  


Tony sighs angrily, fists clenching on the bed. He can’t help but remember Peter crying, making that decision to die.  
  


“You almost _died_. You- If you didn’t have your metabolism, you know what would’ve happened? I would’ve had to watch you _die_. I would’ve had to carry your fucking corpse out of that hotel back to May. I-”  
  


“But I have my metabolism! I have my healing!” Peter’s crying again, out of the blue and sudden, sitting up in his hospital bed. “There was a gun at your head and I wasn’t about to risk _anything_.”  
  


“You’re not _invincible_ , Peter!”  
  


“Neither are you!”  
  


“I’m the adult here, Peter. I get to make those calls-”  
  


Peter’s glaring through his tears. “You didn’t have choice there. He _made_ me choose. It was either we die or we live. I had to choose, Tony. What was I supposed to do?!”  
  


Tony sighs, anger dissipating. He’s just tired and scared that one day, they won’t be so lucky.  
  


“I’m sorry, kid, I know that was hard on you. I know you were trying to do the right thing, but I just… I can’t lose you. I can’t. I nearly lost my mind back there, and I just- I can’t do it.”  
  


Peter rubs a hand over his face. “Have you ever thought that maybe _I_ can’t lose _you_?”  
  


Careful of the wires and medical equipment, Tony draws Peter into a hug, soothing him gently.  
  


“I know, okay? I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know you were scared. I know that way scary. But it’s over now, it’s okay.”  
  


Peter grabs Tony’s shirt, hiding his face against Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry too. I was just- And I couldn’t think of a _good_ outcome. And I was- I was scared and I felt like a little kid. Like I couldn’t- I couldn’t save you.”  
  


“You did, bubba. You did save me. Thank you for that. It’s okay, I’ll keep you safe,” Tony murmurs, cupping the back of Peter’s neck and carding his fingers through his bedhead.  
  


Peter cries, yesterday’s events sitting painfully on his shoulders. He’s seventeen and he almost died. He made the biggest sacrifice and he’s just a kid.  
  


“I love you,” Peter whispers. It’s the first time they’ve said it in a non-life-or-death situation.  
  


Tony smiles, pressing a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head. “I love you too, _il mio bambino_.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://lyssismagical.tumblr.com/)


End file.
